


Seeing The Ridge

by HillandGlen



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 16:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20624084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HillandGlen/pseuds/HillandGlen
Summary: Claire, takes stock of how the Ridge has grown, from a small settlement, to a thriving township.





	Seeing The Ridge

Felicitie took her arm and helped her up the path, the hill to the burying ground was steep, but Claire had sat there every day for the last three months, on the bench Oggy had made her. 

She sat down, and Felicitie wrapped a quilt about her, although it was a warm June morning, at 92, the cold crept into old bones. 

From here she could see down the Ridge, it had grown some since Jamie and she had seen it first, way back in ’67, was that really 41 years ago, she thought.

A lot had happened in that time, she smiled gently to herself. 

Three houses stood now a top the Ridge, Fraser House, where Jamie and she had lived since returning in 1779.  
Felicitie, lived there with them now, with Christopher, her husband.

Felicitie, who had followed her into healing, and had also gone through the stones, to the future, and came back from 1990 with Chris, both trained Doctors

The Big House, Roger and Bree had rebuilt it on their return, they still lived there, and had extended it, when Jem had married Laura McDonald. 

They had 3 children now, Young Jamie, who stood tall and at 15, the spit of his Great Grandfather, Joe, almost 13 and as spiritual as his Father, and wee Ella, born after three miscarriages and the 5 year old held all their hearts.

Roger had built the Presbyterian Church along side the big house, and still was reading the sermon every Sunday, although at almost 70, he left a lot of the ministry to Frank, the youngest of Bree and his three children. 

Claire hoped one day, that Frank would find somebody to love, but as yet seemed to be happy just with his God.

And the small Cabin, where Marsali now lived, surrounded by visiting Grandchildren, she had moved up from the Print Shop, after Fergus died, leaving it to Young Fergus and his Family. 

Claire reached out and laid a hand on the stone to her left seeing in her minds eye, the scrawny, curly haired boy, she had first met, the film running through her head, of Prestonpans and the panic, when she had realised he had gone to fight, the relief when he came back.

The grown man she had met again, his wedding, his children, his finding himself in his Print Shop.  
20 years ago The Ridge had become big enough to warrant it’s own print shop and Fergus had brought his family home. 

He had also told them then, that on a visit to Okecoke, where, their daughter Joanie, had gone to live upon her marriage, he could hear, the buzzing that Roger had described. He had never wanted to try going through, but still he had been a traveller., but had watched his daughter go through, and breathed again when she returned. 

He had died two years ago, the flu taking him, nothing Felicite could do to stop it, although she fought it all the way. 

Claire had had to hold her after, knowing what it was like to lose a patient, and when that patient was your Father. It had taken a lot of time for Felicitie not to blame herself.

She could see the top of the Print Shop, from where she sat, and the Smithy, Murtagh and Jocasta had built that when they had escaped from the Redcoats and hidden out on The Ridge. 

They had brought Phadreas boy with them, Thomas had been brought up as their own, and now ran the Smithy.

She turned her eyes, to where Jo and Murtagh lay side by side under the big apple tree, and smiled at the thought of them. It had been 20 Years since Jo, then Murtagh had died. 

Next to the Smithy, was the Livery, Jem’s pride and joy. Like his Grandfather, horses were his passion, and as well as the Livery, he bred horses, up in the high field, with a stables, by Murtagh Lindsay’s place.

Oggy had the Cooper shop, along Main Street, no need to go to Cooperville anymore for barrels, and his sister Demelza, ran the trading post, not as big as Beardsleys but it kept most of what they needed up here on the Ridge. 

Ian and Rachel still lived in there original Cabin, although it stood bigger now, it had needed too, seven children, that marriage had produced!, 

Ian had finally settled down, after the war, and farmed, but Angus and Colum, they had both had the lust for adventure, and had gone on into the wilderness, and now letters came back from Indiana, and Illinois. 

Claire chuckled, the twins were so like their Father and great Uncle. They had run rings around their Granny Janet, till she had boxed their ears like she had done a young Jamie. 

Oh Jenny, she missed her so this last winter without her, she looked to where, the grass was now growing over her grave, and the cairn was building, by the stones left by her Grandchildren.

Michaels and Joan’s children as well as Ian’s, who came visiting from New Bern, where Micheal and Joan had settled and opened the Wine business. 

She knew tho, that Jenny would now be with Ian, and safe in his arms again, and that left her heart easy. 

Houses and Cabins ran, from Main Street, like vines from a heart. Housing the offspring, and children of the offspring of the original settlers, you could find, Frasers, Murrays, Beardsley’s, McCullum’s, Higgin’s, Lindsay’s, Ardsmuir names, and those of the Fisher folk, and any amount of each. 

Some had left, Germain and Fanny, now lived in Wilmington, going there after the war, running a subsidiary of Fraser Wines, country life was never going to be enough for Germain. 

John, oh John, her stalwart in these last few months, who on losing his lands in the wake of the war had come to live with William

And William, losing who he was, had returned to England in 1780, only to find himself more lost there.

So he had come back, and on the voyage had found the feisty, fiery Irish Catriona, stowing away with her little brother Sam, running from hunger and abuse. 

He had hidden them in his cabin, and she hadn’t cared weather he was a prince or an pauper.  
By the time they had landed, he had found himself, and found a love he never thought he would have. 

They had come to the Ridge, and built Fraser Grey, Whisky, along with both John and Jamie. 

JJ, William’s oldest ran it now, along with his father.

And her darling Bree, who had laid out the plan of this beautiful township, they called home, who had always been by her side, who knew her almost as well as her Father did. 

She had designed, plumbing, the water wheel, the mill. Had stamped herself all over the Ridge, in a time that really didn’t like a woman having ideas, but then the Ridge was always different, the men learnt from Jamie that women were worth as much as the men, and from Claire, that they could do anything, if they wanted to.

And Mandy, Mandy, the traveller of them all, who could go back and forth, could see the world through all time.  
Who came and went, sometimes as an escort, to the future, as when she took Felicite through the stones, sometimes a seeker of travellers as when she found Christopher, she had brought Christopher and Felictie together, and guided them back, when they had decided this was their place. 

Who’s healing powers surpassed even Raymond’s, who could use the Blue Light, with such force.  
She wondered when she was now, she had been gone for a year this time, a pull would come to her, and she would go, a calling from some time, that she was needed in. 

Felicitie had been angry, that she hadn’t been here, when Fergus had taken sick, convinced she would gave been able to save him, but sometimes, well sometimes, these things are the way if the world, and saving one person, may mean not saving many. 

Last time, she had been in France, in a field hospital, in WW1, just as her Grandmother had in WW2.

That time she had put her blue light, on Henry Beauchamps, dying from gas. It was October 1917. He was sent home to recuperate and had leave, before going back , His daughter had been born the next year

Claire closed her eyes, the sun warm on them and reached out to her left and put her hand on the stone beside her.

She felt the electricity, and looked down, puzzled, she hadn’t brought a hairbrush with her! And she hadn’t seen this hairbrush in over 60 years. 

The electricity crackled again and she looked up, Jamie stood in front if her, resplendent in his Fraser Tartan, his red hair blazing in the sunshine.  
He reached out his hand, and she took it. 

Bree watched as John walked up the hill, he usually went to sit with her mother there. She smiled he was still as upright and soldier like after all these years.  
She watched as he stopped in front if her mother, then knelt.

She knew before he had lift her mother’s hand to his cheek, and the tears began to fall.

Roger knew when Bree walked into the church, he eyes wet and sad. 

Together they walked up to the burying ground. John was sitting now. Claire’s hand in his.

On her face, was the gentlest of smiles.  
‘She is home now'


End file.
